Either Feast or Famine
by Nutty as a fruitcake
Summary: A ritual meant to save Harry leads to unimaginable consequences.
1. I

**WARNING:** Character death. Blood and Gore. Ghouls - they eat people! No Slash or Yaoi.

**Disclaimer:** I'm not J. K. Rowling or Sui Ishida. I don't own Harry Potter or Tokyo Ghoul.

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**EITHER FEAST OR FAMINE**

**Prologue**

_**2. Nov. 1999**_

_**22.23 p.m.**_

Harry had always counted himself as a lucky person. After all, there was no way he had survived so long without any luck. It had held with him throughout all his years at Hogwarts so maybe it was a given that it would leave him after all these years of extreme luck. Yes, his current situation only proved that luck had indeed left him for good.

When bad-luck had greeted him the horrible evening of the 13th of August, he had never thought it would go as bad as it had gone the last months. It had gone phenomenally horrible.

Harry licked his lips, gathering what remained of the thick substance still lingering on his lips. He closed his eyes in ecstasy, after so many days of hunger he finally felt satisfied. He could not eat another bite even if he wanted to. It was easy to forget his problem when it tasted so incredibly good. It was hard to believe that he had almost passed out from hunger a few hours earlier, and now he was just high on too much of the good.

Harry was currently sitting quietly at the kitchen floor in his small apartment. It was situated close to Diagonal Alley, though it was in the Muggle part of London. He had chosen it to get away from all the reporters, and it had worked wonders. He had no problems with them as long as he kept to the Muggle world it seemed.

However, now he was hiding from something entirely different than a reporter. Though judging by his drugged and relaxed state, it did not seem as though there was any immediate danger coming from that particular threat. Harry blinked tiredly and glanced down at his hands. They were so dirty just like the rest of him. Dirty like his soul had become an hour earlier, tainted for life. His new white shirt was dripping wet, and his black jeans seemed to be shining as the light reflected in the liquid.

Harry was somewhat conscious over his situation and understood that he had to do something. Anything about the dead body in his living room. It had already been hours since the body's owner had left this world; Harry tried not to think about the consequences of his rash and idiotic action. He had done countless of impulsive things in the past, but none of them had such huge negative consequences as the one he was sitting in right now. There was no way for him to twist it into a partly positive thing.

He had killed her. Killed his friend, though he had yet to understand what he had done after he had killed her. He was still extremely high after eating and had yet to come far enough down to let the festering guilt fully hit him.

Harry stared with unseeing eyes at his bloody hands. "I'm so sorry… at least I'm going to feel sorry… just wait a bit, will you?" He mumbled out to the dead body, not really registering what he was saying. He was aware that he would never be forgiven for committing such a horrible act, but it made sense to apologize.

Wiping up some blood from his soaked jeans, he ran his dripping hands through his hair. Blood ran down his forehead before mixing with the bloody mess around his mouth. If he was a sinner then he had to be careful to taint every part of himself, he thought in his drugged state.

As minutes went by he slowly began to realize just how messed up his situation was. He had actually killed his friend.

Revolution filled his being, and he crawled sickly to the sink, throwing up the contents of his stomach. A read, meaty substance was left in the sink; he stared hypnotized at it. So it was true. He had not only killed her but eaten large chunks of her small body. He crunched his face before throwing up what remained in his stomach.

Sliding down at the floor, he fisted his hair. He was a cannibal and a killer. Shameful tears began to slide down his face, mixing with the dried blood. Harry James Potter was a killer. Not that he hadn't killed before, after all he had killed Voldemort and Quirinus Quirrell, but now he had killed an innocent person. It made a huge difference.

One thing was certain; he could never return to his daily life - not if he had to continue to kill like this.

"I don't want to k-kill anyone…Why?… How did it end up like this? How… How was I-I even able to kill y-you?!" He cried out, and the tears streamed down his face like a river.

Silence was the only answer he received to his cries.

Gripping his knees to his body, he let out all his feelings. Tears and snot dirtying his already bloody face. He was bawling, screaming in despair. It would not be unexpected if the neighbors knocked at the door any minute now.

Hiccupping from his crying he wiped his eyes, as if that would help. Blood got in his eyes and he closed them painfully. With burning eyes, he slowly tried to find the sink in the darkness. Finding it and turning on the water, he leaned under the sink and allowed the water slowly run over his eyes. The stench from his earlier use of the sink was getting to his nose and he got away from it as soon as he was finished rinsing his eyes.

Tears were still streaming down his face, but he knew that crying was far from the most clever thing to do in his situation. It would not bring her back from the dead.

He had to get rid of the body. Or maybe - maybe he should turn himself in? Turn up at the Auror Office and tell them that he had just killed and eaten his friend. He would have thought it a joke if he did not know better.

How could he live normally after this? Harry trudged slowly towards his living room, which was connected to the kitchen where he currently found himself. He did not want to look at the gruesome sight of the body, but what choice did he have? It was a bloody mess, but he could still plainly see the identity to the body's owner. It appeared as though he had kept away from her face while feasting. Harry was unsure if it was a positive thing.

Stumbling on nothing, he fell down beside the corpse. Reaching with shaking hands up to her face, he stroked her cold cheeks with his bloody hands. Her lifeless brown eyes were staring emotionless into his.

Swallowing he nodded to himself. He had to do something. Yes, he had to act before things got even worse - if they could. He glanced up to her face and nodded in silent appreciation. Her lifeless stare had been enough to spur him into action.

Even in death Hermione Granger guided him.


	2. II

**Disclaimer:** I'm not J. K. Rowling or Sui Ishida. I don't own Harry Potter or Tokyo Ghoul.

**A/N: **Huge thanks to my beta KillerKlown12!

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**Either Feast or Famine**

**A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it - Jane de la Fontaine**

_**12. August. 1999**_

_**13.36 p.m.**_

The Diagonal Alley was as usual crowded by a big variation of creatures. Molding together in a streaming river, where an astonishing acceptance of magical creatures was seen. Though judging by hidden glares sent from the magical people, it was only an outer approval.

As one looked closer at the shops and restaurants in the overflowing street, The Leaky Cauldron could be seen lightening up the surroundings with laughter and the smell of warm food.

In the corner of the shop, a pair of arguing youths huddled closely together. They were clearly agitated and the two tea cups in front of them were cold, forgotten minutes ago.

"Harry, you should take better care of yourself." The woman stated to the black haired man in front of her. She had her eyebrow furrowed in a disapproving manner, pursing her lips.

The man, Harry, shifted annoyingly in his chair. "I am taking care of myself." He snapped, slapping the palm of his hand against the table.

She shook her head objection to his words. "Well, your body clearly disagrees! Look at yourself, you've lost all the fat you managed to attain when we were at school." Their eyes met and a discussion kept on not by words but by an exchange of heated glares. Mostly irritated and angry ones from the man, and frustrated ones from the woman.

After a while in silence, just between the two youths, of course, absolutely not in the room, Harry looked away from the individual in front of him. "I haven't lost that much, and if I have then It's only because I've had a lot to do in the last months." He denied her accusations.

"While I'm glad that you're working hard; you need to understand that there is a balance, neither too much or too little is healthy." She said seriously, but a worried gleam could be seen in her eyes.

Harry pushed himself and the chair he sat in away from the table, an outer rejection to her words. An uncomfortable screeching sound was heard, originating from the friction of the chair moving against the floor. " Balance? Please, Hermione, just because I've lost a bit weight doesn't mean that I have no balance." He said angrily.

"You know what I mean." Hermione defended, now equally as angry.

He's hand tightened around his tight, eyes hardening. "No, I don't." Was the sharp reply, and Hermione bit her lower lip in frustration.

She opened her mouth, probably going to say whatever was on her mind, but she closed it again. Sighing, the apparent anger in her eyes changed to deep concern. "We both know that you do. Ever since we were children, you've struggled to have a normal and balanced life - thought mostly because you never could. And look at yourself now. You've never had a balanced situation in a longer period of time, so it's expected that you have difficulties incorporating it into your daily life." She insisted slowly, eyes becoming moist in her concern and from the feelings under the surface.

"What are you trying to say?" Harry asked hostilely.

Hermione glanced down at her forgotten cup of tea, licking her lips. After a few seconds, she looked determined up at Harry again. "You should go to a psychologist, Harry. Just to get someone to talk to, someone who can give you logical advise." She recommended strongly.

"…" Harry's eyes that had widened under her speech hardened once again. "You don't trust me enough to let me take care of myself?" He accused and Hermione scooted back in her chair, offended by the accusation.

"Harry! This has nothing to do with trust! Please don't turn this around on me." Hermione pleaded as she reached for Harry's hand on the table, trying to touch it - to bring some sort of understanding out between them by touch. Though Harry shook her hand off as soon as he was touched, giving her a glare. "Nothing to do with trust?" He parroted, before adding. "It has everything to do with trust."

"No it doesn't, this is about getting you help."

"I don't need help, leave me alone." Harry snapped.

Hermione licked her lips, a storm of feelings seen in her eyes. Once again silence spread between them, but was hurriedly broken when Hermione looked into Harry's eyes, trying to convey her opinion. "Harry, everyone who was involved in the war needs help. We suffered a lot, lost precious people… and especially you - you gave up everything for other people, now it's time you give it to yourself." She whispered, the pain in her voice apparent; it made Harry shift uncomfortably in his chair. He had no wish to talk about the war, it could be forgotten in history for all he cared.

Trying to hide his obvious unease, he straightened his back. "Hermione, maybe you haven't noticed, but I no longer give everything to other people. I'm not an Auror as they wanted, not a politician - hell, I haven't done a thing they've wanted me to do after the war." Harry said to demonstrate just how wrong she was to assume he did not do anything for himself. It was foolish of her to think such a thing, and she was looked upon as a genius, Harry thought. Refusing to acknowledge the knot forming in his stomach as he denied her accusations. "And here you are sitting accusing me of not taking care of myself and giving myself attention - how dare you!" He shouted the last part, standing up in agitation.

The room became eerily quiet, all eyes on the young man. He swallowed nervously under all their gazes, hating the attention more than anything.

Harry sat down in his chair again, and after a few seconds the buzzing sound of conversation and laughter once again filled The Leaky Cauldron.

Hermione stared worriedly at him. "Stop lying to yourself. Even though you may not have done what they'd expect or want, you still neglect yourself. Locking yourself up in your room, forgetting to eat and - judging by the dark areas under your eyes - neglecting to eat. You aren't giving yourself the thing you need the most - self-love." She said scoldingly, but the underlying tone was anything but cold. Harry did not answer, choosing to run his spoon around in circles in his coffee cup. Realizing that he did not want to answer, Hermione added. "Doing what you want only goes so far."

Listening to her continuing rambling about his problems and how he needed help, was become incredibly annoying. She had nothing to do with his life, Harry could not help but think; even though he knew she only wanted the best for him.

He shook his head before whispering coldly out. "I didn't come here to listen to you bickering about what I'm doing wrong." He tapped his middle finger continuously against the table, a habit he had attained after the war. "This is my life!"

"Yes, but y-" Hermione began, but was cut off by Harry's icy words. "I'll do whatever I want. My body and life are of no business for you."

Hermione's eyes widened considerably, and she shook her head hurriedly. "Harry! I'm your friend, I only want what's best for you."

He snorted. "No - clearly you don't." She opened her mouth to argue, but he did not let her formulate a word as he continued. "If you really wished the best for me, then you wouldn't try to help me by pointing out everything you believe I do wrong."

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione said disbelievingly. "How can you say that? It's not only me who sees the destructive tendencies you've attained - Ron, Neville and all the others agrees." It was maybe meant to point out the truth in her words, but only achieved in making Harry even more annoyed.

"Wha-" He breathed out, his hand laying slap at the table. Hermione noticed his shocked look, so she took her chance to further prove her point. "I'm here representing everybody - you need help."

Eyebrows tightening, he replied firmly. "No."

Hermione looked confused. "Wha - 'no'?"

"No." He repeated, not wishing to further explain the reason for his choice of words. Though Hermione probably already knew why he refused her help. She was one of the few people who knew him for who he was, and not as the so beloved boy-who-lived. The fact that she knew him so well only made it even more annoying that she came to him to talk about his problems. She should have known he hated such conversations.

"You're too stubborn for your own good, Harry!"

"No." He repeated for the third time, staring stubbornly into her eyes.

Sputtering in frustration and because of the lack of cooperation, Hermione shook her head at him. "Stop being childish - try to see it from our perspective." She muttered tiredly, sick of Harry's rejection to her words. "If one of your friends were slowly destroying themselves surely you would act."

"I'm not destroying myself - I've only been busy the last months."

Sighing, she stared into his eyes. "Not months, the last year. Ever since the war."

"So what - it's not easy to establish a new company; you, better than anyone, should know that." He snapped.

"You're just using it as an excuse! Working hard doesn't equal self-neglect." She explained, frustrated that he had so much opposition for her wish to help.

"I'm not neglecting myself!"

"Yes, you are." Hermione whispered. She was far from blind, just by glancing over Harry's current condition anyone could see that there were something wrong.

Harry pressed himself back against the chair like a cornered animal. "I don't want to listen to this. I didn't come here to talk about how damaged I am after the war." He muttered angrily.

Hermione's eyes softened at his words and she glanced down at her hands as a thoughtful air surrounded her. After a while, she stared up into Harry'e eyes, who was shocked by the emotional turmoil in her gaze. Harry swallowed as Hermione gave him a small bitter smile. "Everyone was damaged - all of us suffer from aftereffects, be it eating disorders, insomnia or self-harm. We're not spotless, Harry; we, like everybody else in this world, have to sometimes get help when dirty - you can't always clean your back alone." She whispered.

They both understood what she was talking about. Yes, it was a topic they knew all too well, even though Harry wanted to deny it.

He swallowed uncomfortably, before standing up from his chair. "…I'm going to order something to drink." He said, but both of them knew he would not get anything. He was planning on leaving.

As he was about to walk away from the table, Hermione grabbed his wrist. Glancing over his shoulder their gazes met. "Harry, please don't push us away. We all support you, we've always done it - it doesn't only hurt you when you forget that your alive and need substance to keep living, we too feel the pain." She declared, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

It was warm, full of love and compassion; it only made Harry feel even more ashamed for his rejections.

"I'm not in pain." He said, tugging weakly at his wrist, which only resulted in Hermione tightening her grip.

Sighing in loss, she shuffled through some papers at the table, bringing out a small note. "Here" Hermione tucker the note into Harry's palm, closing his fingers around it. "It's a list of different kind of people who can give you support. Support we can't give you as your friends. Just look at it, all right?" She mentioned hopefully, letting his wrist go.

"…"

Understanding that nothing good would come out of keeping him away from his escape, she gave him a small smile. "I'll leave you alone for now, I'm meeting Ron for lunch - but I'm expecting a visit soon." Hermione said and Harry nodded in reply. Though it was unclear if the nod was an answer or just a recognition of her words.

"Bye." He muttered hurriedly, before taking his leave. Hermione stared concernedly after him, as he all but ran out of the room.

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**_14:19 p.m._**

Harry furrowed his eyebrows in frustration as he made his way towards his house. It had not been long since he had left Hermione alone in the leaky cauldron and he wished for nothing more than to forget the topic of their conversation.

He was not neglecting himself, he was just busy; really, how difficult was it for Hermione to see?

As he strolled past a showcase window and saw himself in the reflection. Staring into the reflection in the window, he refused to acknowledge his thin state and the dark circles under his eyes.

He was healthy; he was not struggling with the past.

"I'm fine, I'm totally fine." He whispered to himself.

It was over a year since the second-wizarding war had ended, and the magical society had slowly rebuilt itself towards a community based on respect. Though it was only an outer acceptance, under a layer of respect brought by the war nothing had changed.

Harry, who had been the war-hero, had received huge amounts of exportations from the different social classes in the magical world.

Some wanted him to become a politician, who one day would be chosen as the Minister of Magic. Others thought he would become an Auror; anything that had something to do with the continuation of him supporting them.

Harry had broken every exportation when he chosen to ignore all the job offers and form his own little company. He was unsure if he could even call it a company, as it was only him who worked there, but he never thought too much about it. For him, it did not matter what it was called as long as he could own it and decide what to do with it himself.

As the thoughts about his small company came to mind, Hermione's words crashed back into his head. He would not be surprised if she thought his company was his way of running from the wizarding world. What a joke. He did not run from anything, he only made his firm as a way to get a bit of privacy - nothing more, nothing less.

As he walked a small building in the corner of a crossroad could be seen, contrasting with its environment. Unlike all the other grey houses in the street, it was intensely red and anyone walking past would have to stop looking.

Over a shockingly red wooden door, a sign where it was written 'The Concession' hanged.

Harry sauntered up to the front door, ignoring the starved cat a few meters from the door. As he entered the building, his consciousness took hold of him and he brought out the newly bought dinner. Placing it outside the door, he closed it while sighing deeply. He never could let anyone be it seemed.

The interior of the building was old but very antique. Dark colors painted the rooms in a somewhat depressive mood, but the large windows littering the wall made up with some well deserved light.

Harry had bought it almost as soon as the war had been over, and had not regretted it a moment. Instead of living in Grimmauld Place, he moved to his shop, turning the upper floor into a small apartment.

The best thing about the building was that it was placed it the Muggle part of London, which resulted in fewer reporters being able to find him. Most of them did not want to go sauntering in the dark world of the Muggles - as some called it.

It was also close to King's Cross Station, something that made traveling so much easier.

Harry locked the door, and checked if it was lost.; it was a habit he had developed after the war. He made his way past the office, up the stairs and into his apartment in the second floor. It was almost empty, even thought he had lived there for months now.

Flopping down on his bed tiredly, he reached for a pile of letters on the work desk beside the bed.

"Harry James Potter…" He read aloud from the letter, feeling detached from his own name. Skimming through it, he threw it at the floor forcefully.

"Foolish people…." He muttered out loud to himself.

"I don't want to be anything for you anymore, let me be…." It came out like a broken whisper. Harry had enough of their wishes and wants; he did not want to give them anything. He could not, not anymore. He was empty inside, no substance to give to anyone; there was no way they would appreciate him for long if they saw who he had become.

Shaking his head, while biting his lips, he muttered as a mantra. "I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay - really, I'm fine."

He was all right. He did not suffer or struggle with the past, he was perfectly all right. Hermione and the others may believe he was neglecting himself, but who else than himself really knew if he did it or not. Harry was sure he was taking good care of himself, the other was only a bit paranoid for his health. The blame could only be given to the war, an aftereffect from the struggle they went through together.

Yes; there were only past struggles refusing to let go, there was nothing of real concern in the present.

* * *

_**13. August. 1999**_

_**11:44 a.m.**_

Through the small compartment, the sound of a phone ringing could be heard. Sweeping through all the dark and silent rooms, waking the inhabitants.

Harry woke sluggishly from a deep sleep, not really registering the source of his awakening at once. As the seconds flew past, he noticed the irritating and uncomfortable sound scraping against his eardrums. Swearing silently he stumbled out of the bed, his food getting caught in the bed sheet, sending him crashing to the floor.

Deeming whoever called unworthy answering, he curled up at the floor; after all they had caused his uncomfortable awakening. Harry had sleep on the floor before, surely it was no problem this time either, because he refused to get back in the bed. The strain of standing up and laying down in the bed was not something he wished to do in his tired state.

Silence was a bliss but did not last for long. Once again the phone rang and Harry understood that the only way to make it disappear was to answer.

Crawling over to the phone, which had not been more than five meters away from his current position, he answered the unfortunate person who had been intelligent enough to call him.

"What?" He snapped.

"Whoa - somebody's awoken on the wrong foot…" Was the reply, and Harry considered hanging up.

"Who's this?" He asked, somewhat irritatingly. He was not in the mood to talk to people who really had nothing to do with him. It often happened with letters; he received piles of letters from people who he had never met.

"Guess." The person at the other side response and Harry could not help but think the voice sounded familiar.

Getting angry from the lack of answer, he whispered threateningly. "I don't want to, either you tell me or I'm hanging up."

"Wait, wait! It's me Ron." Ron replied hurriedly, as if afraid Harry would hang up at once.

Harry's eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement. "What the hell are you doing with a Muggle phone?"

"My dad just got one, and since you usually use hundreds of years to answer a letter I decided to call you." He replied snarly, before adding in a breathless voice. "Wow - I still think it's incredible - phones, I mean."

Sighing, he slipped down on his bed again; tired and wanting nothing more than to sleep. "Really…. How did you get my number?"

"My lovely girlfriend!"

"Hermione…" He clarified, and secretly hoped she never gave it to people he did not know. Though if he knew her as well as he believed, then she would not so it; she had luckily overcome her huge loyalty to authority figures. "What do you want? It's in the middle of the night." Harry muttered tiredly, and just to prove his point he jawed.

The line had gone silent before Ron made a sigh. "It's 11:49 in the morning, Harry…"

"Oh," Was the only answer he could think of. He had probably fallen asleep after he had gone over his work, which had been around 18:00 p.m. - he believed. When he thought about it, he was incredibly hungry. He had almost forgotten Ron, but was made aware when he coughed. Startled he continued the conversation. "Still, what do you want?"

"I have about three news for you, you ready?" Ron said excitedly.

"News? I hope they're good."

"It depends."

Sighing heavily, he muttered. "Whatever - come with it."

"Merlin, you're extremely sour this morning." The person at the other side muttered, somewhat surely himself. Though Harry could hear the underlying teasing manner in his voice.

"Ron." He said coldly, not wishing to joke around. He was too tired and hungry.

"All right, all right." Ron exclaimed. "First; Me and Hermione are getting engaged, surprise! We're having a party the 28th of September, you're coming and it's not negotiable." He said in one breath, sounding so lively and awake it made Harry wince. Though he was happy for their choice, it had been something everyone had seen coming; except them of course.

Smiling for their happiness, he gave the only answer he could. "Congratulation, of course, I'm coming."

"Good." Was the short reply, before he continued. "Second; Have you heard the news?"

"What news?" Harry asked confusedly.

"They've been able to catch a ghoul - the Aurors." Ron said hurriedly.

"Really…" He muttered tiredly and could feel his eyes slipping close. He had slept so long, but it was still not enough.

Ron sighed disappointingly. "You don't sound excited, it's a ghoul. A real one, captured alive."

"Incredible." Was the dry reply.

"You're no fun, when you're tired."

Suddenly feeling painfully aware of his neglecting of his friends, he muttered. "Sorry, I'm just…" It all made it worse because Ron was saying it; he was the type who usually let him be and instead gave him silent support, but when he said it suddenly hit home.

"You don't have to say it, it's all right, mate. It always is." Ron said kindly ever he supportive friend. They may have had their problems, but who did not; they had survived it all and their friendship had bloomed. After the storm, there is a calm.

"Thanks, Ron." Harry whispered, appreciating his friend's words.

"Don't mention it." Ron laughed.

"So, what about this ghoul - wait, what is a ghoul again?"

"You don't know? They've been all over the news lately, at least the ones we can find that is."

Grimacing, he shook his head. "No, I haven't followed the news lately." He had kept away from the news, not wishing to find something about the past in it.

Ron hummed in response, before explaining. "I see, well if I remember correctly then a ghoul is a creature that eats' human flesh - it's their food I guess."

"Like cannibalism." He asked, disgusted at the thought. Suddenly vampires did not seem all that horrible, after all they just took the blood; not your flesh.

"Yeah - I guess that's it. But they're not humans so I guess it doesn't really count as cannibalism." Ron muttered, clearly unsure what was the right answer.

Harry shuddered. "Gross, it's a wonder I haven't heard about them before."

"Nah - From what I've understood then it's only lately we've begun to notice them."

"That's good, then I'm not that far behind on the news." Harry laughed and Ron snickered with him.

Silence swept over their conversation and was not broken before Ron remembered crucial information about their topic of discussion. "Yeah, but listen, mate. Hermione said that these ghouls look exactly like us humans, the real difference is only seen when they're feeding." It somehow made the creatures even more disturbing, if they could walk amidst the crowd without being noticed; not as long as they did not eat. A disturbing thought, indeed.

Noticing Ron's huge amount of knowledge on the new creatures, he added. "You've been studying."

"Can't get away from it with Hermione in the house." Ron answered with a dramatic sigh, but he was clearly happy to be with her. Harry smiled to himself; they deserved each other, after so long dancing on each other's toes they finally admitted it.

"Whoa - you've begun the brainwashing process." He snickered. "Next year you're a highly educated scholar. "

"You wish." Ron replied.

Remembering the original topic he asked. "They've really captured a real one?"

"Yeah, a real and alive ghoul. It's sick, mate."

Suddenly feeling curious about it, he muttered thoughtfully. "What are they going to do with it?"

"Don't know, I'm not an Auror, but I've heard some rumors that they're going to experiment on it." Ron answered mysteriously, he did know much himself it seemed.

"Really, why would they experiment on it?"

"Well, apparently some ghouls have highly regenerative abilities, the scientist wants to find out the key to their ability." Harry nodded to Ron's answer, interested. It would be incredible if they managed to do so, many would surely be saved by such knowledge.

"So that we can use it?" He asked, just to clarify his thoughts.

"Yeah, I guess. Don't know really." Ron muttered.

He hummed before adding. "So, what's the last news?"

"Oh, yeah. Hermione has sent an Unspeakable to your shop, he'll probably arrive later this evening." Ron replied and Harry's eyebrows furrowed confusedly. "Why? What would an unspeakable want with me?"

"Don't know, Hermione said it was a job offer." Was the clarifying response.

"Hope they have money." Harry said smilingly.

"I don't get why you have such a high renting price, you're never getting customers - are you?" Ron exclaimed jokingly.

"By having a high price I'm able to reject the fans." He answered in a satisfied manner because it was the truth. By being incredibility expensive normal people could not hire him, which resulted in fans not begin able to corner him.

"Ouch."

"I don't want anything to do with people who hire me just because I'm Harry Potter." He mutters, suddenly feeling solemn. It was horrible to just be a name, an image of someone he was not; few really knew him and it sometimes hurt that he could not make new friends because they refused to see past his given mask.

"I can understand that… but don't do it just to close yourself off in your own world."

"I'm not." He denied, but when Ron said it, he knew it was serious.

"Then it's fine, mate." Ron replied, not pushing; just being there for him. Silent support.

"Yeah…" He muttered tiredly.

Ron laughed before adding. "I'll see you soon then!"

"Yeah, see you." Harry agreed.

Ron became quiet and Harry thought he had hanged up, thought after some seconds Ron's voice swept through. "Soon?" Was the question.

"Soon." He agreed.

* * *

_**17:33 p.m.**_

"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter." It was an incredibly cold greeting, so cold Harry wondered if the man even had emotions. He had a long pitch-black robe on that went all the way down to the floor and a hood concealing the identity of the man. He looked terrifyingly alike to a Dementor, s much Harry had shivered when he had seen him.

"Good afternoon, Mr…?" He greeted, hoping for a name. It was weird enough not to see the man's face, surely he would be given a name.

"My name is of no importance." He replied coldly.

"Very well, but I'd like something to name you on my papers." Harry lied he refused to go around and call the man nothing. If he could not get a name then, he would get an alias to call him by.

"Muggleborn."

Furrowing his eyebrow in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"My code name; it is my blood status."

"Isn't that a bit revealing of your true identity?" Harry asked.

"How?" The man shifted on his feet and Harry hoped the hood would fall off.

"How - what?" He asked the black clothed man, a bit surely. Was every unspeakable so difficult?

"How is it revealing, there are many Muggleborns in the magical community." The man explained, still without a spec of emotion.

Not wanting to argue with the stone-like man he replied sourly. "Yeah, when you say it."

"Good, then we agree." The man said, before adding. "Shall we get down to business?"

"Yeah, what do you wish to hire me for?" Harry asked a bit interested as to why the man wanted to hire him.

"My group of Unspeakables which to hire you as a bodyguard." He said and Harry nodded.

"All right, for what?"

"We have just gotten information from our source that it had been found remains if a dragon-like creature in the Krubera cave. Though there is a great deal of darker creatures in the cave, which is why we want a powerful wizard with us as protection; you." Muggleborn explained.

He nodded, understanding why they wanted him, before asking. "Krubera Cave? Where's that?"

"In Georgia." Muggleborn said, brushing a hand over his black robes.

"You have the money I expect, right?" He had to be sure that they did indeed have the money, after all even though it was an interesting mission he could not change his price. If he did it one time, everyone would want such a thing. He refused to let it happen.

"Of course."

"Alright, I'll take your offer." He said smilingly, shaking his hand with Muggleborn in an agreement.

"Wonderful." The man said, but the tone he used made it sound like it was far from wonderful. Not that it was Harry's problem if the man was happy or not.

"Why don't we discuss it further one of the next days?" Harry asked. He could not stay in the same room as the man any longer, surely he would get sick from the coldness radiating from him.

"Agreed." was the short reply and he swept out the door, leaving a dumbfounded Harry by the door.

Sighing, he made his way to his office. He hoped it would be an excited mission, with dangers and fights. Thought most probably it would be easy and boring, a mission he would finish without any problem. Probably fast too, Harry thought.

If Harry knew which consequences it would have, he would without a doubt have refused the offer.


	3. III

Disclaimer: I'm not J. K. Rowling or Sui Ishida. I don't own Harry Potter or Tokyo Ghoul.

A/N: Many thanks to my beta, KillerKlown12!

* * *

**Either Feast or Famine**

**There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so - William Shakespeare**

**16. August. 1999**

**12.01 p.m.**

Harry stared down at the letter he had received from the Unspeakable just minutes earlier. It explained everything they had gone through on their meeting only a day earlier, it almost felt as though Muggleborn thought he had forgotten every detail already. The man was too cold and arrogant to be healthy; it would not surprise Harry if he had no social life.

As they had agreed on, they would travel the 24th of August to Georgia where the Unspeakable group would do their tests and experiments; Harry was not expected to do much, just be there as security if something decided to happen.

It seemed boring, and Harry already wished that it was over. Was it all right to hope something would happen? The fact that he would have free time was disturbing, because free time meant time to think; Harry absolutely no desire to think about anything. There was a reason, even though he would never admit it to Hermione, for his over-working.

Grimacing at the small note reminding him not to forget their departure time, he threw it in the trashcan.

* * *

**24. August. 1999**

**22.09 p.m.**

It was pitch-dark around them; the only light source coming from one of the Unspeakables in the group. Apparently it was too risky to have more light, or so the ice cube traveling with them believed.

They were standing on a platform of some kind, just big enough for all of them. At the left side of the square platform, there was an enormous technology-like construction. Though it revealed itself to be something else, as one of the individuals had his wand inside a spot in the structure, whispering incarnations as they slowly descended deeper into the cave.

A black cloaked man was standing stiffly beside Harry, and if he had shown his face behind the hood, he could surely have a strict glare. "Remember, if anything happens it is you, not us who will take the damage."

"..." Harry stared at the man, or what he could see of him, before answering. "That's a given, but do you really have to say it that way?" It was expected, but reasonable people would not have said it out openly like that. The man needed help; Harry was sure of that after spending the last day with him. He, on the other hand, did not need help, even though Hermione and other people thought he did. He was perfectly fine.

"Are you unwilling, Mr. Potter?" The man asked, sounding a bit agitated.

Furrowing his eyebrows, he shook his head. "Did I say I was?"

"Not directly, no." Was the icy reply.

They were standing close, and Harry began to wonder if the man actually was angry at him for some reason. It would be fascinating to see as he had never seen him convey any intense feelings since he met the Unspeakable.

They were five people in total, and one of the female Unspeakables came up to them; laying a gentle hand at Harry's shoulder. "Muggleborn, leave the boy alone." She whispered, leaning up against Harry's side, grinding her breasts into his arm.

"I was not bothering him, Slytherin." The man disagreed.

"Are you kidding me? You were literally telling him to die for us, poor boy." The huge breasted woman exclaimed, grinding harder against a very uncomfortable Harry. He had nothing against women, no he quite liked their curves and forms, but this was embarrassing.

Brushing gloved hands over his straight robe, Muggleborn muttered. "By agreeing to my proposal, he has agreed to die for us."

"You need to get that stick out of your ass." She answered, and Harry could almost see her grin through her words; even though she had a hood concealing her face.

"I have never had any stick in my ass, opposite to other individuals in our group." The man took a step back as he said so, and apparently an apt choice as the woman struck her foot out towards him. She probably hoped to kick him, judging by the small annoying sound coming from her hood. "Are you making fun of me? Asshole."

"I was merely stating a fact." Ever the honest man, it seemed.

They were clearly agitated, and all their movement had caused the platform to move uneasily. Gulping uncomfortably, Harry glanced concernedly over the edge of the platform. He had no wish to plummet into the darkness, because of some small disagreement. "...um, maybe we should concentrate more on descending down into the cave... I have no idea of this instrument works." He said carefully.

"Of course, you do not understand our incredible construction, you have no intelligence." Muggleborn agreed.

"When are we there..." Was the only answer Harry gave, having no desire to cause more movement on the platform than necessary.

"There you see! He already wants to be finished; it's not good to scare our bodyguard!" She yelled, gripping Harry's arm tightly.

"It does not matter if he is scared or not, as long as he does his job." Muggleborn muttered, before turning around deeming them uninteresting.

"Ignore him, talk to me instead, Harry." She whispered into his ear. "I'm Slytherin, but if you sleep with me, I'll give you my real name!" She traced his collarbone, and Harry could now feel her breath in his ear. "Deal?"

Swallowing he replied slowly. "I'm working... I don't think it's appropriate to do so right now..." It was not appropriate, far from it. He would probably have agreed any other time; he was a man after all, but it did not feel safe to do anything with this woman.

"Don't be shy, I've got desirable assets." Was the only answer he received, plus more grinding of breasts up against his side.

"Maybe another time..." He muttered, taking a careful step away from her, resulting in her losing her grip on him.

"How boring." She said, turning away from him, towards the other man. "Muggleborn, how about you?"

"We are here." Muggleborn muttered just as Harry could feel the platform land on solid stone on the bottom of the deep passage they had descended.

"Everyone's refusing my offer; you don't know what you'll miss." She whispered to herself, but Harry heard her.

"Get off." Muggleborn said strictly, clearly he too had heard her.

Glancing around the small cave room they had arrived in, he looked for the so-called remains they were supposed to study. Not seeing anything, he muttered. "There's nothing here."

"Of course there is nothing here. The remains are situated deeper." Muggleborn answered. "From here, we will walk."

"How long?" Harry asked curiously as they began to move deeper into the cave.

Muggleborn seemed to consider it before replying. "Not long, two days."

"Wha-." He began, wishing to have a better explanation. "Do not whine, I do not appreciate it." Muggleborn said strictly, as though talking to a child. Not bothering to talk to Harry any longer, he walked away from him.

"..." Staring after the annoying man, he turned to Slytherin. "Does he have feelings at all?" He asked.

She tilted her head, before shaking it. "You know, it's hard to say. Some say he doesn't." She said, before stroking her hand over his shoulder once again. "Wanna kiss?"

Staring weirdly at the woman, he shook his head. "Let's go." He answered before walking past her.

"Oh, man. And here I thought you were warming up to me." He heard her whine behind him.

Harry was unsure if he would survive at all together with the mysterious group for more than one day. It appeared as though his job was a bit more excited than he had originally thought. Yes, when they were so weird he had no time to think at all on other things. It seemed as though his choice to do the job was, indeed, a good one.

* * *

**31. August. 1999**

**05.12 a.m.**

"Mr. Potter, follow me." Muggleborn said, waking Harry up from his deep slumber.

They had been in the cave for days, and Harry was beginning to become used to the miserable darkness that followed such parts of the earth. They had found the remains of the creature after three days, not two as Muggleborn had said, that jerk. And the group had begun their examination of it at once.

"Hm?" He mumbled sleepy, not wishing to wake up just yet. Shifting under warm and comfortable sheet, he sighed in resignation. He was at work, so what choice did he have?

"I will study a deeper part of this section of the cave. You; follow me." Was all Muggleborn said as he began to walk away from the camp.

Getting out from his cocoon of sheets, he glanced over the sleeping group. "Alright, but what about the others?" Was it appropriate to leave the others behind without saying anything?

"They have their own work to do, now follow me."

"Alright, alright." He mumbled; a bit agitated by the man's attitude.

Following the black cloaked man into the darkness, he checked that he did indeed have his wand with him. It would not do to go anywhere without it.

The minutes passed by, and they walked deeper and deeper into another part of the cave, leaving the safe lights of the campfire behind.

Three hours passed by, and Harry began to notice a change in the layout of the cave. They came from a relatively safe path and into an open room, where their paths made its way on the side of the wall. Nothing could be seen if one looked down, and the path began to become worryingly thin. It would not be a surprise if one slipped and fell down in the void beneath them.

Harry swallowed when he felt loose rocks beneath his boots and slippery stone. "Are you sure it's clever to go over here? It doesn't look safe." He said, his voice small in the huge cave room. If they disappeared here, no one would find them; that was for sure.

"I will decide whether it is safe or not, Mr. Potter." Muggleborn said strictly, walking on the thin path between heaven and hell.

Getting worried Harry stopped walking hoping it would make Muggleborn stop too. "No, seriously. The stone's slippery, it's not safe." He yelled as he noticed the man kept on walking.

"Shut up, commoner." Muggleborn muttered, acting both weird and out of character.

"Please, listen." Harry said taking some cautious steps towards the black cloaked man."It's not safe - get back here." He said worriedly, licking his lips in frustration.

"You are not here for such safety," Muggleborn denied.

"Maybe not, but I'm your bodyguard, and I know that what you're doing right now is dangerous." Harry defended, walking carefully up the man.

"No." Muggleborn said, and Harry began to wonder of the man had something special at the end of the road he wanted to find. Surely there was not, he had, after all, never been to this cave before.

"..." He gulped as he took hold of Muggelborn's arm, tugging weakly at it. It would not do if he made them slip. "Then I'll make you retreat because you clearly don't know that you're risking your life."

"Get off me." The man said, trying to shake Harry's hand off.

"What's your problem?" Harry could not help but ask, trying to calm the man down by not getting agitated himself.

Muggleborn turned to him, and the darkness of the hood stared at him, "Do not touch me." He said taking steps away from Harry, who could feel his foot slipping.

"Wait,_ don't_ move." The black haired man whispered worriedly, but Muggleborn would not listen. He took steps away from Harry, who was still gripping his coat. "I will not listen to you of all people." Muggleborn muttered as he forcefully shook Harry's hand off. Though just as he did his foot slipped, and he tilted, clearly about to fall.

Harry's eyes widened, and he reached out for the man. "Don't-." Muggleborn struggled as he lost his balance, and as he fell over the edge, he managed to get a hold of Harry's searching hand. Dragging both of them over the edge; into the darkness.

* * *

**13.06 p.m.**

Suffocating darkness was the first thing that greeted Harry as he opened his eyes, and an incredibly painful body.

Blinking, he tried to see something, anything, but without success. He was about to open his mouth to yell or order the other people of the group to lit the campfire once again, when he remembered that he no longer was together with them.

Memories came surging into his head, and he swallowed nervously as he remembered just where he was. He had slipped and fallen into the darkness beneath the path on which he had walked.

Searching panickily around for his wand, he shook his head in denial. He could not find it.

He shifted, trying to stand up from the hard and cold stone on which he was laying. As he succeeded to sit painfully on his knees and arms, he glanced around, even though he knew there was nothing to see through the darkness.

He was bleeding from several areas, but nothing too serious judging by his clear head.

His eyes widened as he remembered with whom he had fallen. Hitting the ground because of his loss of memory, he glanced around.

"Muggleborn?!" He yelled through the darkness, but no reply could be heard. Swearing he began to crawl carefully deeper into the cave, trying to feel his way.

"Are you here?!" He screamed on the top of his lungs; the only sound received was the echo of his own voice.

Hours past by and Harry felt like giving up. Though just as he was about to crawl back the way he thought he came from, he felt something smooth under his fingers. The feeling of a body; a human body.

Brushing over the body, he felt the usual cloth of an Unspeakables; it was Muggleborn.

"Shit... " He muttered when he felt no movement from the man, no breath and no beating heart.

He began CRP, as he had learned in the Muggle world some time ago, at once, hoping to bring the man back. After some time it was clear it did not help, he was as dead as one could be.

Muggleborn was dead, and if Harry did not find his wand then he was too would cease to exist.

Eyes widening from an idea, he searched the corpse for a wand. Luckily, finding it he almost whooped in joy.

"Accio - Harry Potter's wand." He said strongly and not long after his wand swished through the air and into his hand.

Getting down to business, he did what he always did when someone died, the time of death. Muttering a small tempus he, notated down the time. "Confirmed time of death - 16.46 p.m., Cause of death..." Lifting up his wand, lightning up Muggleborn, he studied the dead man's condition. "...blood loss."

Sighing, he glanced down at the man. It would take too much energy to transfigure the man into something smaller so he could take the body with him, so he decide not to. He knew he had a huge reserve of magical power, but he could not transfigure a human being when he was hurt and did not know when he would be able to get out of the darkness.

Staring down at the man, he could not stop himself from using his wand to lift the dead man's hood. It was not very respectful, but who was there to see him?

Muggleborn had a face that matched his personality; nothing. He was bald, small nose, normal eyes and lips. He was literally nothing, not a person anyone would notice if he walked past them. Glancing down at the pale face, he regretted looking at it. Now he had a face to associate with the guilt of not being able to save him. He was so clever, was he not?

Shaking his head, he decided not to spend any more time with the corpse. Once again he began to make his way towards the place he had fallen down; if he was lucky he would be able to find it again.

As he walked the light from his wand reflected in something deep in the cave, and Harry glanced towards it curiously. Not being able to hold his curiosity, he made his way over to the light source. As he got closer, he noticed that it was an area of white moss, or whatever it was. He had no idea anything could grow so far down.

Harry sat down beside it, relaxing and trying to forget his painful body. It was quite beautiful, the moss, nothing like he had ever seen. It had the color of the moon. The moss was lightening up the dark stone.

Getting curious he dragged his hand through the moss, and it resulted in white powder being released from the plant. Like a smoke-screen, it flowed across the air, and Harry breathed it in. Coughing as he got it inside his airways, he crouched down trying to get whatever had entered his lungs out again. He could not breath.

A powerful and quite painful coughing racked his body, as he slowly began to get dizzy. "Wha-" Was everything he managed to mutter as darkness met him.

* * *

_"Welcome home, sweetie." The smile of his wife greeted him as he opened the door, letting the kids rush past him._

_"I'm home." He smiled back_

_"How was the shopping trip?" She said as she kissed him deeply. It was incredible, but something was missing._

_"All right..." Harry muttered as he glanced disorientated around the glowing house. It was warm and homey, but again, there was something wrong about everything._

_"The children did not tire you out too much? If not how about we...?." He turned to glance at her. Ginny Potter, where she was smiling brightly up at him. Behind her, he saw their children._

_Opening his mouth he tried to answer, but no words came out._

_The warm house shifted and a dark, old one was left in its wake. Breathing panicky, he stared back at her, begging for help._

_Accusing eyes met him, not only her's but the entire wizarding population's._

_"You only think about yourself." Came the accusation, the sound of hundreds of people talking together._

_Harry shook his head and tried to turn around. To get out of the house; a house that haunted him. A past that haunted him more than anything._

_"We need you." They were getting closer. Too close to comfort._

_He shook his head faster, tear beginning to gather in his eyes. He did not wish to see this; he never wanted to see it ever again. Not to think about it, not see it and never touch it. For all, he cared it could be locked up and forgotten._

_"We want you." One step more towards him._

_Breathing fast and panicky, he managed to take a small, fearful step back._

_"We need you, Harry." Closer._

_"No." He denied._

_"We want you, Harry." They were breathing up against his face, the haunted faces of his people._

_"NO!" He screamed._

* * *

**21.33 p.m.**

Harry shot up from his position on the cold stone, breathing raggedly. He shook his head in continuing denial even though he no longer was dreaming. It was ridiculous how much something from the past could haunt one. It frustrated him more than anything, why could the unwanted not stay buried?

Glancing down he saw the white moss by his side and, as a result, he shot up from his position beside it. Seeing a white dust hovering over the plant his breath got caught in his throat.

Harry ran; he ran for his life not wishing to breath in the poison yet again. As he ran, he felt his lung burn uncomfortably.

After a while, he finally reached a stone wall. Breathing harshly, he tried to relax. He had stood up to Voldemort without fear, but a small area of unknown moss was not something he could stand up against. He could predict people to a degree, the pain brought by the dust of the moss was unpredictable and, therefore, threatening.

Or maybe he was just paranoid.

"Mr. Potter..." He heard, like a whisper through a forest. "Muggleborn..." Once again, barely there.

Glancing up, he saw a small light in the distance.

"Mr. Potter..." Harry mind finally caught on to the voice, and he stood up yelling. "I'm here!"

"Mr. Potter?" It was almost impossible to hear anything, indicating that the fall had been a quite long one. Harry had been lucky it seemed. Was he not always?

"I'm here! I'll send up a rope!" He yelled as he muttered an incarnation, transfiguring a rope before sending it upwards with another spell.

As soon as he heard the affirmation, he fastened the rope comfortably around himself.

It did not take long for him to get up with the help of the rope and some spells, but when he did he almost wished he had never agreed to be saved at all.

Every black hood was turned on him, watching his every move. Swallowing he took some cautious steps away from the edge.

"Mr. Potter!" The woman yelled, apparently not seeing Harry's troubled emotions. "Where were you?!"

"..." Harry opened his mouth, before closing it again, swallowing. After a while, he choked out. "I'm sorry, Muggleborn... he's..."

Silence met him, but he knew they had understood what he had tried to say. They were not Unspeakables without a reason. Though when he thought about it being an Unspeakable had not saved Muggleborn from doing something incredibly foolish.

Harry wanted to go home, once again.

10. September. 1999

Nothing happened after his explanation to the remaining group of Unspeakables. Nothing of interest that is.

The group finished their work in surprising happiness, even though their leader had fallen to his doom. Some even seemed genuinely happy about Mugglebonr's demise. Not that it would have surprised Harry that the cold man had gathered some enemies over the years.

The 10th of September marked their arrival to Britain, after weeks in the depressing darkness of the cave in Georgia. Harry swore never to return to it ever again.

It had appeared the remains the group had studied in the cave had brought a tremendous breakthrough in the study of creatures. The remains had apparently been an ancestor to the known type of dragons; incredible people said. Harry did not have much interest in it. Many had congratulated him when they arrived; apparently it was amazing to be a part of the team discovering such a thing. It did not make the death of Muggleborn feel any less his fault than before. Muggleborn was just another face in the group of people he could not save.

The most unusual thing that had transpired since his fall had been his lack of energy. It had come suddenly after he had inhaled the white dust from the moss and had not disappeared since.

Something was happening, and whatever it was; it was not healthy.

* * *

**13. September. 1999**

**15.14 p.m**.

"Harry, how are you? Really?" Hermione said fleetingly as she was about to leave. She had visited him after his trip to see how he was, and was just about to go.

Glancing up from his late lunch, which had yet to be touched, he nodded. "I'm all right... I think."

"If there's anything I can do, call me or Ron." She smiled before closing the door after herself.

"Yeah." Harry muttered after her, knowing she would not hear it.

He glanced down at his cold food and sighed. He had no appetite at all. Standing up he made his way towards the sink. Though he never got so far, in the middle of the floor his legs failed under him, sending him crashing to the floor. The plate scattering once it hit the floor.

Coughs racked his body, and he coughed into his hand. After some more hacks, he was left breathless at the floor.

He breathed out and tried to push himself up, but noticed something in his palm. Studying it closer, his eyes widened.

It was blood; he had coughed up blood.


End file.
